Firetale

by Dante Graves

  Chapter 14: The Hermit & Justice & the Devil

  “They’ve got to kill what we’ve found.”

  Nine Inch Nails, “We’re In This Together”

  Evening turned into night, and the audience broke up. The circus scheduled its shows late for two reasons, to generate greater mystery and to intrigue the audience. It also helped to hustle people away from the circus after a performance, lest they try to take pictures of the artists and monsters. Lazarus Bernardius watched from a distance as the crowd dispersed, and then he noticed someone approaching him. The tentmaster had seen the man in the stands, but the stranger didn’t look like a gawker who wanted to talk after the show. He was alone, and most spectators had come as families or couples. Besides, he didn’t resemble a local. He wore heavy boots and a dusty leather coat with two rows of buttons—who would wear that for a show?

  His face expressed no joy from a meeting with the manager of the circus, nor the perplexity of someone who had lost his way. Instead, it reflected the kind of interest and triumph that a scientist who had discovered a new chemical element or a new species might have felt. The stranger was not young. His long hair, pulled back, was almost gray, and a stubble of the same color bespoke his age. The stranger’s eyes were hidden behind round sunglasses, and as the man obviously was not blind, Lazarus thought it was odd that he wore them in such darkness.

  “Mr. Bernardius, I presume,” the stranger said to the circus manager.

  “I am. And you?”

  “Judge Caius. I hope you understand that I’m not working in the district court, Mr. Bernardius.”

  Lazarus tried not to show his concern, though inside he felt a cold stab. Judge? In the circus? Lazarus knew who the Judges were, although the last time he had encountered one was over a hundred years ago, when he had not been experienced in the management of the affairs of the circus, and the Judges had been much more.

  “To what do we owe the honor, Judge?”

  “Oh, funny question, isn’t it? You surely know what Judges do. The man running this circus should know. But if you have forgotten, I will remind you. I’m looking for mongrels, and if they’re harming people, I will have them.” the Judge made a gesture like crushing something.

  “I can assure you, Judge Caius, that we here honor the Pactum, and our inhabitants are totally harmless. As you can see, even the patasola has renounced her murderous habits.”

  “Oh, it’s really impressive, Mr. Bernardius. I came across one patasola twenty years ago. This creature had ripped three house builders to shreds. She lured them into the desert, pretending to be a nice little girl, fascinated them, and killed them. I hope yours is not that type. There was a lot of blood, along with hands and legs in different places, and what she did with their heads …”

  “You saw everything,” Lazarus said, interrupting the Judge. “Our artists do not cause harm to anyone, they only entertain the public.”

  “I’m sure you will want to talk about this with the three widows and seven children of those poor wretches, if you ever go to Albuquerque.” The Judge smiled. “You have here a very beautiful reserve of cute and good-natured mongrels. Yes, sorry, I didn’t say it earlier, but you have a great show, just amazing. It’s a shame there weren’t any such during my childhood.”

  “Judge Caius, what do you want?” Lazarus did not like this man or the conversation they were having.

  “You know, my first thought when I got to the circus was why, why, for heaven’s sake, had I and every other Judge gone so many years without noticing you?”

  “We have never violated the Pactum.”

  “That’s it, Mr. Bernardius.” There was a gleam of triumph in Caius’s eyes. “The universe, I believe, is similar to jelly. Poke a finger in one place, and the wave gets going anywhere. One of your mongrels has violated the Pactum, and one of my people learned of it. Simple as that.”

  “It’s just an assumption, Judge,” retorted Lazarus.

  “The truth is yours. But you know the rules. A Judge may render a verdict based on the evidence as he deems sufficient. We are the court and the jury. And, to my delight, the executioners.”

  Lazarus stepped forward and leaned toward the man in the cloak. “Judge Caius, your threats are meaningless. You must understand that the long and successful existence of our circus would not be possible without some patrons.”

  “Of course. However, those patrons eventually couldn’t conceal you from me, and, hence, from all other Judges. So you are now under supervision, Mr. Bernardius.”

  “Let me see you to the door, Judge Caius.”

  Lazarus pointed, and the Judge shrugged and went with Bernardius. As they passed the main tent, they noticed Martha and Greg coming out of it.

  “Mongrel love,” said the Judge. “How nice. During the show I saw how he looked at this gymnast girl. Interesting specimen. Fire mage. Handles fire like a demon from hell. You keep an eye on him. With this capability, he could mess around a lot.” The Judge raised his glasses and winked at Lazarus. “And what is the secret of this beauty, this flying trapeze girl. Who is she? I can name every kind of mongrel in your circus, but not her. Something new?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t answer any of your questions, Judge Caius,” Lazarus said.

  “Well, Mr. Bernardius. To your regret, I won’t say goodbye. I’ll look after you.”

  Lazarus showed the Judge to his car and watched silently as Caius got into it. He didn’t move until the Judge’s strange car had disappeared. The situation was unpleasant, but Lazarus was calm. If his immortality had taught him anything, it was patience. Mr. Bernardius and his circus had remained outside the purview of the Judges for so long that these people had become only a ghostly threat, but deep inside he knew that one day some Judge would come for him or his fosterlings.

  He must have made a mistake somewhere, lost sight of something, been lulled by how many decades the plan devised by Louie Louis had worked so smoothly. Lucifer. Lazarus would have to tell Pietro about the visit of the Judge, and the archivist would report to Lucifer. The demon wouldn’t be pleased, but he might offer a solution.

  The doors of Astaroth’s chamber sprang open as the walls shook from the loud, rumbling voice of the supreme demon.

  “Astaroth!” Lucifer barely kept his human form. Tongues of flames, like sprouts, penetrated the skin on his face, and his wings flapped wildly. The demon practically flew into Astaroth’s chambers.

  “Traitor!” Lucifer shouted, snatching Astaroth out of a huge carved chair and elevating him toward the ceiling.

  My plan failed, Astaroth thought, but he did not try to resist. He knew the forces were unequal, and he would rather just endure until Lucifer, his brother and mentor, vented his anger on him. Meanwhile, the supreme demon broke through the chamber’s ceiling using Astaroth’s body as a ram. Two demons, two brothers, broke through every floor until they reached a small ruined room that crowned the main tower of the palace of Astaroth.

  The room offered a view of the dull gray landscape, infernal plains occasionally crossed by fiery red rivers, and of the city in the center of the plain, which opened now beneath the two demons. The thin spires of the city’s towers were like needles piercing an almost-black sky, from which ash showered continually. If not for the strong winds, the towers of Hell would have long since collapsed under the weight of ash covering them.

  “Damned traitor!” roared Lucifer. The supreme demon pressed his face close to Astaroth’s. Lucifer’s face was furious, Astaroth’s was sad.

  “Why did you do that? Why did you tell His servants?” Lucifer’s voice brimmed with anger. Equivocating was pointless, and Astaroth did not deny what he had done.

  “I miss it.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “I miss home.”

  “What home? Here is your home, ungrateful scum.”

  “Here?” Apathy instantly disappeared from Astaroth’s face. “Our home is not here, Lucifer. Here is our prison. Look around you.�
�� Astaroth threw his hands up, pointing at the landscape below. “I’m tired of this place. This is not our home. Not mine. You came here and made this place a headquarters of your holy war against Him. You haven’t asked any of us!”

  The expression of rage on Lucifer’s face changed to bewilderment, and then pity. He loosened his grip.

  “Missed? Tired? Did you really think that if you blow upon several mongrels, He will forgive you and let you come back?”

  “Not just mongrels, but those whom you hid from Him. Among them are those who have broken the Pactum. You knew about this and kept silent. It will give him an excuse to start a war with you.”

  “War.” The flames on Lucifer’s face went out. Now his face was more like a cracked clay mask, with smoke belching through the crevices. “War on your brothers, Astaroth.”

  “I wanted to go home.” The demon’s voice was weak and broken.

  “So what? You got there? To Heaven? To Him? You told him, you betrayed us, and you’re still here. If he appreciated your offering, then why are you still here? Why do you not flutter in the little white pastures of Heaven with Him? Did you think he would forgive you? Think He would take you back? You wanted to buy a ticket back? He is not like you, Astaroth. I am like you. Our brothers who will remain here are like you.”

  “Who will remain here?”

  “Yes, brother. I cannot kill you, you know that. But here I stand and you will not. I cast you out. From now on, you have no place in His palace or in Hell. And you will never be like humans. But if you want to do something stupid, something to get back at me, to get into Lazarus’s affairs, seek a meeting with him. I’ll find you. Just give me a reason to regret the fact that I’ve saved your life.”

  For the first time in ages, Astaroth was frightened. He had lost everything. He felt as if his body was melting. His arms and legs were like jelly, as the gray world became whitish, and the red rivers lost their brightness. He tried to cling to Lucifer as an anchor, joining him on this plane of reality, but he failed. Astaroth was powerless. He wanted to scream. He was ready to beg for Lucifer’s mercy, but he knew that he would not back down.

  So Astaroth lost a second home. Thus began his second exile.